


Just Talk to Me

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crying, F/M, Happy Ending, rooftop confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7357522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't think he loves me anymore," you tell Spider-man, who heard you're crying and wants to know what's wrong. You didn't know that Spider-man was the "he" you were talking about.</p><p>This was supposed to be a drabble request that kind of has a mind of it's own and is now a multi-chapter story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rooftop Tears

          The roof of your apartment building was a peaceful place that very few people came to this late, unless they were desperate for a smoke, but didn’t fancy the streets at night. You were lucky enough to have the place to yourself for a bit. Your picnic quilt was spread out on the ground, pillow behind your back, creating a comfortable little nest as you looked up at the night sky. Light pollution hid most of the stars from your view, but a few peaked through, enough to remind you that the universe was absolutely gigantic, and you were just a tiny little spec in it, and that ultimately the pain you currently felt in your chest would not matter, that the universe would get over it, and you should get over it. _So why does it still feel like the world is crumbling around me?_

         You had been trying not to cry. Coached yourself to keep a straight face at school when your best friend avoided you, ignored you, at home when he didn’t respond to your texts or answer your calls, in the hallway outside of his apartment when his aunt told you that he wasn’t home. _Come on, Y/N, crying doesn’t do you any good. It just makes you splotchy, and you can’t breathe, and you get a headache, and then people hear you and ask questions and tell you that everything will be okay. And what do they know? They don’t know how this feels. Who are they to tell me that everything is okay, and I should cheer up?_

Tears slipped from your eyes as your brain carried on with its angry monologue. _And now I’m crying. Great. I’ll have to go back inside and answer those stupid questions, and convince Mom and Dad that I’m perfectly fine when I’m not. I’m not alright. Why can he - how can he do this? I thought he was my friend, that we would always be -_ “I was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

         “What did you do that was so stupid?”

         You let out a little yelp and jerked upright, heart pounding as you looked around for the voice. Looking behind the closed off chimney you had been using as a backrest, you saw Spider-man, leaning against it casually, as though he was meant to be there.

         “What are you - you - you’re?”

         “Hi, I’m Spider-man. Nice to meet you…?”

         “Y/N.”

         “Y/N. Lovely name. So, I was just swinging around, and I heard crying, and that’s usually a sign that something bad is happening.”

         “I’m not being attacked, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

         “Is it something I can help with?”

         “Unless you want to hear me complain about my former best friend, I guess not. You’ve got more important things to do, actual crimes to stop. High school drama isn’t exactly your thing, is it?” You tried to laugh, to make the air feel lighter, to make him think that you were fine on your own.

 

**Peter’s POV**

         _Shit. Shit. Shit. I fucked up._ I could feel my body tense up, go completely stiff. She was too busy wiping her face to notice. _Oh, that looks like there were a lot of tears. Oh shit._

_Is it morally wrong to listen to her complain about me to me when she doesn’t know that it’s me? I mean, Peter and Spider-man aren’t the same - wait, that’s a lie, they totally are the same person. A mask doesn’t change that. But if I know what’s wrong, I can fix it, right? Right. Okay. This’ll be fine. Moral gray area. But a light gray._

         “Oh, come on. I live for high school drama.” I walked over to the far edge of her quilt - _she always did love making nests_. “May I?”

         “Umm, sure.”

         I settled down cross-legged, elbows resting on my knees, chin propped on my interlaced fingers. She watched me carefully. It isn’t everyday a vigilante wants to know why you’re crying on a rooftop. “So, what former best friend hurt you, and do I need to beat them up?”

         She laughed a little and sniffled, wiping at the tear tracks left on her face.

         “No. He hasn’t done anything criminal. He just… he hasn’t talked to me in weeks, and he ignores my texts and calls. And I know he’s going through some stuff - his uncle just died and they were really close, but he’s shut me out of his life completely and it hurts. I just sorta figured I’d be there for him like he was there for me when my grandpa passed away, and now he doesn’t seem to want me in his life at all.” She was speaking slowly, halting between every few words, choosing them carefully.

         I nodded, a show of solidarity, right? “Maybe he doesn’t want burden you with his sadness?”

         She scoffed and rolled her eyes. _Figures she wouldn’t buy that._ “We’re supposed to be best friends. Best friends are there for each other through thick and thin. It doesn’t matter. I’m _supposed_ to be helping him right now. That’s what friends do.”

         “I guess you’re right.” I looked down and tried not to sound as defeated and broken as I felt. I had really fucked up, had really hurt her and that was the last thing I had ever wanted to do to her.

         “Can I ask you something that you don’t have to answer?” I glanced back up. Her head was titled to the side, eyebrows furrowed slightly, like when she isn’t sure she should be saying something, but is going to anyway.

         “Uh, yeah, sure.” _Please don’t ask who I am, please don’t ask who I am, please don’t ask -_

 

**Second Person POV**

         “Do any of your friends know you’re Spider-man? Like whoever you are under there, does his real-life friends know about his secret identity?”

         “Why?”

         “I just - it’s a dangerous thing you do, protecting people. And I imagine that since, technically, it isn’t strictly legal, that you can’t really tell many people.”

         “Well, you aren’t wrong.”

         “It’s just that you’re always so nice and help so many people, is there anyone there to help you?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Is there anyone there to help you when you need it? Emotionally? Physically? Making an alibi?”

         He stuttered a little, rubbing the back of his neck, shifting around. You felt bad about asking. “I’m sorry. I went too far, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

         “No, it’s, um, it’s alright. I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer one of mine, first.” One of the eyes of his mask was almost squinted, while the other was wide “open” - how did the mask do that? It was like he had an eyebrow raised. You nodded your agreement. He scooted closer to you and leaned in, forearms resting on his thighs. “Do you think you could forgive your friend if he had a good reason?”

 

**Peter’s POV**

         Her jaw dropped a little. She squeezed your eyes shut and shook her head a little - clearing her thoughts? _Maybe that was the wrong way to phrase it, I probably sound like I’m defending him, myself, Peter, ugh, that’s too confusing for such a simple thing._

         “I - I don’t know. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we’ve always trusted each other, always loved each other. Him cutting me out … I don’t think he loves me anymore, and how can I forgive that when I loved him so completely.”

         “What do you mean ‘so completely?’ Like, as a sibling not a friend?” _Damnit, voice, now is no time to be as shakey as that shake weight Aunt May tried._

         “As in I think I’m in love with my best friend who wants nothing to do with me, and I don’t know how our friendship could ever be fixed.”

         “You love him romantically?”

         “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always loved him as a friend, but I think it’s more than that, has been for a while. I want to share every moment with him, and make sure that he’s happy, and if me being in his life isn’t making him happy, then I guess I’ll step back, but he never told me that. Never said a damn thing and that hurts, and he’s supposed to be better than that. Peter was never a jerk.” She sighed deeply. She looked utterly broken, but I couldn’t say a damn thing. _She’s right. There is no excuse for being a royal jerk like that. But she loves me? Like really loves me? Oh, please tell me that I haven’t lost my chance at being with her. Here’s hoping this works._


	2. Talking it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're going to discuss things like rational people.

**Peter’s POV**

         “So, Y/N, you answered my question. I’ll answer yours. No. No one knows. Well - Tony Stark knows, but he’s Iron Man, so that’s a little different. ‘Cause you’re right, it is dangerous, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt because they’re friends with Spider-man and ‘Spider-man sent my friend to jail so I’m gunna put his in the hospital.’ Enough people want me in the hospital as it is, my friends and family don’t deserve that. It’s made me a bit… distant from the people I really care about. Think I might have ruined some friendships the way your friend did.”

         There was a long silence. She didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t know what to say or do. But it wasn’t awkward. It was more…reflective?

         “Maybe the you under the mask could try to cross those bridges again? I mean, if they care about you, they’ll at least put in an effort, right? Be willing to listen if you tell them you had some personal shit going on?”

         “Would you put in an effort with Peter?”

         She chewed on her bottom lip, looking down, hugging her arms to her body, eyes lost in thought, not really looking at anything even though they were pointed towards the far corner of the quilt/nest. When she finally did speak again, she didn’t look at me, but kept her focus on the quilt corner. “If he could help me understand, and I could follow his line of thinking, then I’d be willing to give it a shot.”

         I nodded. Trying to think, trying to reign in my rogue thoughts. _No, I can’t tell her now. She’ll be mad that I let her vent like to me and she’ll never forgive me. She won’t want me in her life - OH, I AM SUCH A HYPOCRITE. Okay, take a deep breath. Tell her. She’ll either be willing to listen, or she’ll never want to see you again. Which is totally fair. You fucked up, Parker. Okay. Now._

         “Y/N?” I held my hand out and she took it, good start.

         “Yes?”

         “Can I tell you something, without you freaking out until I’ve finished?”

         “Uh, I can try not to freak out, but I’m not making any promises.”

         “Okay, I’ll take what I can get. Um, Y/N,” I started pulling at my mask with one hand, but it wasn’t working. Kept getting caught on my chin, “uh, give me a hand?”

         “Are - are you sure? You want me to take your mask off?”

         “Yeah, I’m sure.”

         She bit the inside of her lips and nodded, letting go of my hand and using both of hers to gently, slowly pull it off. _She’s giving me a chance to change my mind. Of course she is. Ugh, why does she have to be so sweet?_ She paused, cool night air was hitting my face, just below my nose.

         “Still sure?”

         “Mhmm.” I hummed, without the mask to muffle my voice a bit, she’d recognize it instantly. _The only reason she hasn’t yet is because she has no reason to think it’s you!_

         She continued to pull upwards, the material stretching to free my nose. It went dark as it passed over my eyes, and then I could feel the breeze in my now very messy mask hair, like hat hair, but worse.

         I opened my eyes to see that hers were shut, tightly. I moved so I was crouching on my knees, taking her hands in mine as I did. Mostly to comfort her, partly to make sure she didn’t slap me. Not that I would have blamed her. I would have wanted to slap me.

         “It’s okay. You can open your eyes.”

         She did, one at a time. Her jaw dropped, eyes scanning my face, then my body. Her hands squeezed mine, and I squeezed back, watching carefully.

         “I don’t know what to say.”

         “Are - are you mad?”

         “I - a little? Or maybe a lot? But about different things.” She pulled her hands from my grasp and sat back, hugging her knees to her chest. “I just poured my heart out to Spider-man about my best friend breaking my heart, and then Spider-man is my best friend? And I’m still mad because you pushed me away. And you just let me confess my feelings and -“ her head thunked back against the chimney. “Yes, I’m mad, and I’m hurt, but I said I would listen, so I will.” Her voice was eerily calm, and that was so much worse than yelling. My heart shattered. _How could I have done this to her?_

         “I didn’t want to hurt you - and that sounds stupid because I knew that what I was doing was hurting you, but I didn’t want Spider-man to hurt you, because that would have been worse.”

         “For who? For you? Seeing me in a hospital would have been worse for you? Because having my heart ripped out by my best friend has been worse for me. I’d rather be in a hospital bed than have spent the last month thinking that you suddenly hated me.” Her tone was harsh, but her words were worse. They cut quick and deep into the last shards of my heart.

         Tears were in her eyes again.

         “Look, I know that I messed up. I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was wrong. I was wrong. But I do love you. I always have. Always will.”

         “Don’t mock me, Parker.” There was a venom to her voice I’d never heard before, and she wasn’t doing anything to hold back the tears.

         “I’m not. I love you. Romantically. And pushing you away to protect you was stupid, and I shouldn’t have, but I thought that if I did then you could find someone safer to be happy with, because you deserve safe _and_ happy. And I could never guarantee that you’d be safe with me, even if I did make you happy.”

         “Who cares about that? You’re my best friend. I get why you didn’t tell me about being Spider-man, I do. But you didn’t have to treat me like a leper. You didn’t have to put me through this.”

         “I know. I’m sorry.”

         “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

         “What can I do? Is there anything I can do?”

         “I want my best friend back. I want him to answer my calls and texts, to talk to me at school, and sit with me at lunch, and hang out with me. I want our friendship back. Can you do that? Can you make me trust you with my heart again? Can I trust you wth my secrets and feelings and everything again?”

         “Yes. I can promise to be there for you at school, and answer when you call, and hang out with you as much as I can. I will always keep your secrets and feelings safe.”

         “Are you sure about that last one? Because your track record with my feelings is in the toilet right now.”

         “I know, but I’ll do whatever it takes to fix that. Please, give me a chance to prove it, to prove that I really do care.

 

**Second POV**

         You took a deep breath. Yes, Peter messed up, big time, but the look in his eyes, it hurt to look at him. The deep brown of his eyes, usually sparkled with twinges of gold in the light, so happy and cheerful, were now dull in the darkness, pained and imploring. His typical perfect posture - May was a stickler about it - was gone, his body slouched, leaning towards you in desperation. His hands were resting on his legs, palms upwards, in a gesture that felt like he was offering himself to you.

         And in a way, he had. Completely. He told you he was Spider-man. He was trusting you with knowledge that had the potential to get him arrested or killed. It could potentially put you in danger, too, but you’d already told him that that didn’t matter. He was placing his life in your hands. _Holy shit. That went from zero to a hundred._

         “You free tomorrow morning?” You winced at how rough your voice sounded from crying and cleared your throat. “We could go for brunch at that new coffee shop two blocks over?”

         “Really?”

         You smiled and grabbed his hands, squeezing gently. “Look, I’m not happy about any of this, you’ve got a lot to make up for, but you’re my best friend, and friends are always supposed to be there for each other. So if being Peter Parker’s friend means being Spider-man’s friend, I can handle that. But if you ever drop me like a hot potato again I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive that. One heartbreak is enough for me, thank you.”

         “I’m free! Definitely. And I’ll never make that mistake again, I swear!”

         His face was lighting up like Rockefeller Plaza at Christmas. His smile made you smile, even though you wanted to maintain a mostly stoic exterior so he would know he wasn’t fully forgiven just yet. When he leaned forward to hug you, though, you caved. He strong arms - _was he always that strong?_ \- wrapped around your waist and held you tightly, his face buried in your shoulder. You hugged back, arms around his neck.

         It took you a few seconds to realize he was muttering something into your shoulder. You pulled back slightly, arms still loosely around his neck, his hands resting on your waist. “What was that?”

         “I said ‘I promise never to put you through that again,’ but I also can’t promise that you’ll never worry.”

         “My best friend is Spider-man. I watch the news. Spider-man gets beat up all the time. I know I’m going to worry.” Suppressing your giggle was difficult. Riling him up was so much fun. His reaction, however, almost made you lose it.

         “Well, the news is a little bias- Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What do you mean ‘Spider-man gets beat up all the time?’ I do not! Sometimes they get a few good hits in, but ‘beat up’ is a bit of an over-statement.”

         You let yourself chuckle slightly, smiling broadly. “Well, tell me about it tomorrow at brunch. Meet me in front of my building at 10:30?”

         “You got it, Y/N.”

         “Now, go on, web-slinger. You’ve got a city to take care of and a curfew to make.”

         “Spider-man doesn’t have a curfew, Y/N,” he said as he pulled his mask back on. Even though his eyes were covered, you knew he was rolling them.

         “Alright, web-boy. Stay safe, text me when you’re done for the night.” You leaned forward and kissed his mask-covered cheek. Had he not pulled the mask on, you would have seen the way he turned red at your unexpected kiss, even though it was something you always used to do.

         With a nod and an “I promise,” Peter - scratch that, _Spider-man_ \- was making his way across rooftops, listening and watching for trouble below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for one more chapter, more like an epilogue, really. Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy it.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brunch the next morning

          You took your steaming cups when your name was called and grabbed a free booth. The morning rush was over, so now the brunch crowd was coming through. Busy, but not so much so that you could not talk about what was going on. You stirred your drink, waiting for it to cool down.

         “Hey, Y/N?”

         You looked up and directly into Peter’s eyes. It had never been so hard before. _Fuck, is being his friend always going to be hard from now on?_ “Yeah?”

         “I just, I’m really sorry. And I know that I don’t really deserve your friendship right now, much-less anything else, but uh, last night- I really need you to know that last night I meant what I said when I told you that I like you, um, romantically. And, and,” he sighed, trying to steady his voice, “And I don’t expect you to jump into my arms or anything because I messed up big time, and if you don’t like me like that anymore, then that’s fine and I totally understand. I just wanted you to know that I meant it.”

         You blinked several times, eyes drifting down to the table - rustic with some carefully done scratches to help the aesthetic. You felt like a fish, opening and closing your mouth several times, trying to speak but not knowing what to say.

         “Peter, I - I don’t really know what to say.”

         “You don’t have to say anything.”

         “You don’t know me do you?” You chuckled lightly. “I have to comment on everything you do. I - I do still like you like that, or at least I think I do. You’re right, I don’t want to do anything about it right now, not while we’re trying to fix our friendship.”

         “Fair enough. So, what, we work on our friendship then eventually see about…?” he gestured between the two of you.

         “I think that’s the best idea.”

         He nodded and ran a finger along the rim of his cup, taking a test sip to make sure he didn’t burn his tongue. “Alright.”

         You nodded again, not really knowing what to do with yourself. You sipped your own drink, now cool enough to enjoy.

         “So, fixing our friendship… You wanna come over tonight? My Aunt is making those little chocolate things you like, and I know she misses you. Apparently you’re the only reason she likes playing board games anymore. Says ‘she just gets so passionate, I love it!’ Like I’m not fun enough on my own.”

         You barked out a sharp laugh before slapping your hand over your mouth. You cringed and looked around. _Whew, no one is staring_. “Well, you do pout when things don’t go your way.”

         “I do not.”

         “And you lie about it.”

         “Y/N!”

         “But, yes, I’d love to.”

         “Awesome. Aunt May’ll be so happy,” he glanced down then back up at you, “but not as happy as me.”

         Despite the attempt to hide your grin behind your cup, you knew that Peter had to see your smile. Your eyes were crinkling, and your cheeks betrayed you, rounding out as you smiled. “Alright, Romeo. Don’t lay it on too thick.”

         “Why whatever do you mean, my lady?”

         “Peter!” Your eyes were bugging as you pressed your lips into a thin line. His fake British accent usually had you rolling on the floor. Well, it wouldn’t get to you this time!

         “My lady beckons. What is it that you need?”

         “Stop it,” you forced out between giggles.

         “Not until the lady tells me what she needs.”

         “The lady needs you to stop it with the accent and speak like a normal American.”

         “But I’m not a normal American.” He feigned insult at the suggestion, refusing to drop the accent.

         “No, you’re a radioactive one that gets himself into dangerous situations and should probably be put on a leash. If nothing else about you is normal, your voice can be.”

         “Oh,” he slammed his hand against his heart, “you wound me.”

         “I will wound you in minute, Parker!”

         “I’d like to see you try.” There’s the normal voice, complete with the good ‘ole American ‘Fight Me’ tone.

         You let your eyes flick over his form, a cocky gleam in them. With a single nod, “I could take you.”

         “Even with my enhanced sense, strength, web shooters, and spidey sense?”

         You stopped for a second. _How has this boy gotten all that? Okay, ask later. Probably not a coffee shop conversation._ “I know Peter Parker’s weaknesses, that’s all that matters. Fight me.”

         “You’re going down at Monopoly tonight.”

         “Not if you’re staying in my hotel like you were last time.” You noted his scoff and smirked. “If you’re so confident, care to make it interesting?”

         “What did you have in mind?”

         “I beat you, you tell me literally every detail about the whole phew phew” you did your hands on subtle web slinging gestures, “thing.”

         He quickly covered your hands, keeping them against the table with a firm, but not too rough, grip, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. _Damn, he’s a cute nervous little bug._

“Okay, fine. Just, don’t do that in public. Or around May. Never around Aunt May. If I win, I want you to make those double chocolate cookies.”

         “I’m not baking you anything. You’re gunna lose.”

         “Oh, you’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around to the end. I hope you've enjoyed this. If you did, please leave comments or kudos, and check me out/make a comment or request on my tumblr @soimwritingstuff.


	4. The Continuing Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, an epilogue to the epilogue. It’s been a while since you and Peter talked things out over brunch, and you’re both ready to see if things can move from friendship territory into relationship territory.

         It had been about three weeks since you had coffee with Peter, and things were slowly going back to ‘normal.’ He still disappeared from time to time, and there were times when he cancelled or delayed plans at the last minute. On the bright side, he wasn’t lying to you anymore, and had told you everything about Spider-man that he felt safe telling you, and he wasn’t ignoring you or pushing you away.

         As far as you were concerned, he’d just about made it up to you. Trusting you with his secret identity was a huge deal, and you knew what it meant. No one else knew. At all. In the whole world. It was a big deal. And he kept you very informed. Texts when he was going out, texts when he made it home safely, texts to let you know that he was thinking about you. It was very sweet, and you told him you weren’t mad at him anymore.

         What wasn’t so great and normal was that you still harboured feelings for him, and you thought he did, too. With Peter saving the city every other night, and trying to make sure you were still friends, neither of you had the guts to bring up that night on the roof, of the love confessions from both of you. You weren’t totally sure you were ready to start anything beyond friendship yet, not while the pain was still fresh. You could forgive all you wanted, but you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget that pain.

 

 

 

         Peter didn’t know if it was possible for you to still have those feelings for him. At brunch you’d said that you thought you did, and you had agreed to eventually see about taking things beyond friendship, and he could live with that. Or thought he could. Unfortunately for Peter, he was having a difficult time with such an elusive (albeit fair) answer. _How does one define eventually, though? Not the immediate future, but where is the line drawn? Is three weeks enough? Would three months be enough? What if it’s three years? We’ll be in college by then, and what if we go to colleges that are far away? In different states? What if she completely forgets about our “eventually” and falls in love with some other guy? Whoa, okay, Peter, calm down. Breathe. That’s it. Calm down, man. It’ll be alright. If it’s meant to be, it will be, right? Right. Probably._

         He glanced out his window. With his up-dialled vision, he could see the light from your bedside lamp across the street, twinkling just barely through a slit in your blinds that wasn’t in place quiet right. When you were younger, and it was too late to go out to play, you held up signs for the other to read using binoculars, sometimes drawing pictures of what you wanted to do the next day. When you were old enough and both had cell phones, as in two years ago when you entered high school, the window signs stopped in favour of texting and snap chat. Peter smiled to himself and snatched his notebook out of his bag.

 

 

 

         A vibration against your thigh jarred you away from your novel. After the very short-lived rise in your heart rate, you glanced down at your phone, lit up, alerting you that Peter was texting you. You kept one thumb in your book, marking your place and unlocked your phone, smiling briefly at the background - a recently taken picture of you and Peter, a week after you learned the truth. He’d baked some cookies for you and you had snapped a picture while shoving one into his mouth, his eyes scrunched shut, mouth wide open, but it was still obvious he was laughing, just like it was obvious that your viciously bared teeth was actually a playful growl, barely hiding a shit-eating grin.

 

         - Look out your window.

 

         - Why?

        

         - Can’t tell you, but it isn’t bad, I promise.

 

         With a huff of slight irritation, you had just found the perfect position, you rolled off of your bed, marking your place in your book with a scrap of paper that you’d torn off an assignment sheet from English. You raised up your blinds and looked down into the street below, but nothing noteworthy caught your eye.

        

         - Stop looking at the street. Look higher.

 

         - For the record, this is a bit creepy.

 

         You looked towards his window, to see if you could see him watching you, eyes glancing over the corners of two buildings, shoved together with barely a hair’s space between them. Your eyes trailed up from the bottom to the top of Peter’s building, counting windows to his bedroom, not that you really needed to anymore, but there was a comfort in the familiar, until -

         “Damn it, Peter.” You chuckled and went to the bottom drawer of your desk, the miscellaneous drawer, and grabbed your old binoculars. Kneeling by the window, you propped your elbows on the window seal. His sign read _“Hey, there”_ , accompanied by a smiley face. You giggled and leaned back to pull some paper and a pen from your desk.

         _“Hi, back, creeper.”_

_“Creeper!?”_

         _“Yes, Creepy Crawly,”_ winkey face, bad drawing of a spider.

         He put up two signs, _“SSSHHHH”_ in dark, bold, all capitals, and _“I don’t have to endure this kind of abuse, you know.”_

         _“You wouldn’t have it any other way & you know it.”_

 _“I really wouldn’t.”_ Before you could respond he put up another. _“Can I ask a ? w/o being annoying?”_

_“Go for it.”_

_“Is it ‘eventually’ yet?”_

On a sharp inhale you sank to the floor, back leaning against the wall beneath the window. Your mouth gaped open at the question. The letters were stiff and straight compared to his usually quick slant, he had been hesitant to ask. _And I’m hesitant to answer. Is hesitating a bad sign or a good one? Cause I’m not turning him down immediately, but I’m not saying ‘yes’ immediately either. But it isn’t a decision that should be made rashly._

         A heavy sigh filled the room, and you glanced over to your bookshelf, a tattered purple _Pride and Prejudice_ spine jumping out at you. _What would Elizabeth Bennet do? What would Jane Austen write happening? Oh, this is bad if I’m comparing myself to literature heroines. What has the world come to?_

         With a smile not at all hidden by rolling your lips inward, you grabbed you pen and wrote one word, holding it up to the window.

 

 

 

         “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

         “Hello, Peter. Come in. Honey, will you tell Y/N that Peter is here?”

         “No need, Dad, I’m ready.” You said, preventing your father from coming down the hall to see the mess that was your room since you had tried on about every item of clothing you owned and neglected to hang up, leaving your room a whirlwind of blouses and bras and skirts that he did NOT need to see.

         “Peter, it’s good to see you.” Your father stuck out his hand and Peter shook it with a nervous smile.

         “It’s nice to see you, too, sir.” His eyes darted past your father to you and widened, smile growing. “Y/N, hey, hi.”

         “Hey, Peter. Long time, no see.”

         “Well, uh, yeah, I mean, yesterday was a long … time… ago.” He winced and swallowed thickly. “You look very nice.”

         “Thank you. You clean up well, too.”

         He smoothed a hand down his pale blue button up. “Thanks.”

         There was an awkward pause as you stood a good three feet away from each other in the entryway, your parents hovering.

         “So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Your mother asked, but you knew your father had been about to say the same thing. It was insane how in synch they were.

         “I was thinking dinner and then there’s this old theater a few blocks over that got turned into an interactive museum, like in the 20s section they have people there that teach you how to dance, and in the 30s section they show you some meals and clothes that people actually made to survive. It’s having extended hours for the next few weeks.”

         “How have I not heard about this? That sounds awesome!”

         “I only saw it in the paper yesterday. It opened last week.”

         “Well, you kids have fun - but not too much fun - stay safe, and be home by 10:30.” Your father said, eyeing Peter carefully. He’d known the kid since he’d moved across the street from you, but now there was the possibility of romance, and that changed things.

         “Yes, Mr. Y/L/N. Y/N will be safe with me. I promise.”

         Your mother also eyed him carefully, but smiled, complete protective mama-bear mode. “I think we can let them stay out till eleven, but do be careful, and if you run into any trouble, or don’t feel safe, call us. We’ll come get you.”

         You knew that also meant that if Peter tried anything that you could call her and she’d come set him straight. Not that you really thought that would be an issue, but a mama’s job is to protect her cub from threats real or imagined, and your mother was excellent at her job.

         With a quick promise to be careful, and goodbye, and no, we won’t be out too late, and yes, I’ll text you if we get held up, you were out the door. You looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. He smiled at you and extended his arm.

         You raised an amused eyebrow. “Going old school, are we?”

         “Well, I didn’t figure you’d settle for a guy who wasn’t a gentleman.”

         “Smooth, Peter, smooth.”

 

 

         After learning about aviation in the ‘nineteen-aughts’ (1900-1909), war rationing in the 1910’s, The Charleston in the 20s, walking through a replica “Hooverville” (1930s shanty town), making propaganda posters in the 40s, watching a protest in the 60s, honing your Disco moves in the 70s, and rocking out to some power ballads (if one rocks to power ballads…), you relived your 90s childhood with hit clips, tattoo chokers, and a huge wall of VHS tapes. You walked out the of the museum just a little before it closed at 10pm, arm looped through Peter’s, leaning ever so slightly into his side. your face actually hurt from smiling so much, but that didn’t stop you from grinning.

         “That was so much fun, Peter. Thank you.”

         “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure if you would think it was too childish…”

         “It was perfect. Family oriented, but not dumbed down. We should come some other time and check out the 18th and 19th centuries.”

         Peter chuckled at your pure excitement, and smiled harder than he already was when he realized that you wanted to spend more time with him like this. “So, do you want to do that for our next date?”

         You stopped at a corner to wait for the light to turn. “You are too smooth, Peter Parker.”

         “Is that a ‘yes’?”

         “I was thinking, there’s this arts-based lecture series at Queens College, open to the public, and they’re going to have a few photographers come and show their work and discuss it, and I thought you might want to do that. On our next date.”

         If eyes could scream with joy, his were. The boy’s entire face completely lit up. “Oh my gosh, that sounds so cool.”

         “It’s next Wednesday, at 6:30, I think? I have it written down at home.”

         “That sounds great. Wow, yeah. So it’s a date?”

         “It’s a date. Dinner after, my treat.”

         “Y/N - “

         “Don’t argue with me on this one, Peter. Whoever plans the date, pays. Deal?”

         He looked over at you, a big smile stretching across his face. “Deal.”

         The light turned and you crossed the street, Peter readjusting his arm so he could hold your hand, swinging it gently between you. It wasn’t long before you were in front of your apartment building. Unfortunately.

         You looked up, noting that the light was glowing from your living room window. Instead of moving to the door, you sat down on the steps, and tugged Peter down next to you.

         “Do I get brownie points with your parents for getting you home early?”

         “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.”

         You knew he would walk to the front door of your apartment, but the gentle night breeze felt good, and outside you could pretend that the date wasn’t drawing to close just yet. Peter was playing with your hand, twiddling your fingers with his, comparing sizes, and marvelling at how perfectly they fit together (though the last one was mostly in his head).

         “Y/N?”

         “Yes?”

         “Can I - may I kiss you?”

         You looked at him, blinked a few times to make sure that you heard him right, mentally chastised yourself for thinking that blinking would solidify your hearing, and nodded, biting down gently on your lip.

         He raised his free hand to the side of your neck and leaned in, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips, hesitating and letting you lean in the last couple of inches. When your lips met you realized how warm and chapped his lips were, and how his scent - a mix of shampoo, dryer sheets, and deodorant - completely surrounded you, and how _wow, this is really nice_ , in the five seconds that it lasted.

         Pulling back so you could look at each other without going cross-eyed, you smiled, glad to see that he mirrored your smile. You glanced back at his lips for a split second, and when you met his eyes again, they were shining with knowledge. There was no mistaking it, he knew what you were thinking, and he leaned in for another kiss. Still chaste, still sweet, still perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who was so supportive of this story and so incredibly patient on this final part. Real life holds back the writing process sometimes, but I hope you thought it was worth the wait! Please leave a comment or a kudos to let me know; your feedback is the reason I keep writing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, please leave a comment or a kudos! And check me out @soimwritingstuff on tumblr where you can find my writing and make requests!


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